


unreal | a newtmas au

by fevercode



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevercode/pseuds/fevercode
Summary: newt lost his father in a tragic accident, and over the years, he has never stopped blaming himself for what happened. still trapped in his past, he, somehow, met a wandering soul, named thomas.as the two of them worked together to search for answers, would they ever find love along the way, too, despite the situation they're currently in?





	1. bad beginnings

**two years prior**

 

_I park my BMW accordingly to the parking lot just beside the main building of the campus. Before climbing out, I run a hand through my hair and apply just a hint of my favourite gel on top of it to avoid having it messy as soon as I step outside. I check the time, and realize I only have fifteen more minutes before classes start. I stayed up until one in the morning to study for the upcoming exams that I woke up very late a while ago. I didn’t even have any breakfast. Just great. Before I blame myself more, I quickly jog and enter the building._

_“Hey, Tommy,” the familiar voice greets me. I turn around, meeting the most annoying pair of eyes in the whole world, but he isn’t alone. A blonde girl with red highlights on the tips of her hair (the hair makes her look cool) is walking right beside him. As far as I know, she’s the new student that Minho’s been blabbing about for weeks now._

_“Minho.” I smack him at the back of his head. I smile at the girl beside him. “Sorry, and you are?”_

_She extends a hand. “Clarisse. I’m new here, and Minho—”_

_“—I offered—” His hands move so fast and adjust my collar—purposely hitting my hand so I won’t be able to shake Clarisse’s hand. “—give her a tour around the campus. She moved in with her family across our house just last month, but do you know what’s even cooler?”_

_Clarisse and I both exchange an awkward smile. She has a beautiful smile, too—I’d give her that—, no wonder Minho’s really into her._

_“You share most of your classes with her?” I ask, but it comes out more of a statement. He nods in reply with a stupid grin and gives me a thumbs-up. Okay._

_“Hey,” Clarisse starts, tilting her head a little at Minho’s behaviour. His attention is back at her. “I think I need to go to the restroom, first.”_

_Minho’s eyes light up. “Yeah, sure! I’ll show you the way.”_

_I smack him in the head, causing a giggle from Clarisse. “It’s just around that corner. He’ll wait you at the hallway for the tour.”_

_“Great. Thanks.” She gives a little wave before rushing off._

_When Minho is sure that she can no longer hear us, he hits me hard in the head, but instead of hitting him back, I just laugh at his face._

_“Seriously, Thomas.” He rolls his eyes at me. “I was already playing it cool!”_

_“You’re obviously into her. Everyone can see that.”_

_He gives me a questioning look. “Obviously obvious?”_

_I nod. “I bet she knows it, too.”_

_He groans dramatically, burying his face in his hands. “She’s just—breathtakingly beautiful and she seems really nice! You know, a day after they moved in across from us, she baked some cookies and delivered them personally! That’s when I knew—”_

_I scrunch my nose. “Oh, shut up.”_

_He raises a hand in front of my face. “Rule number one: do not interrupt the king. That’s rude.”_

_“You’re rude.”_

_“Rule number two: do not insult your king,” he continues, and I just sigh in defeat. “I’ve liked her for a month now, and I’m just so happy when I found out that she was gonna transfer and that we share classes—like most of ‘em! And she agreed to let me give her a tour!”_

_“Well, that’s cute,” I say, approaching my locker. I type my password and swing it open, putting my bag inside. Oh shoot, why did I open this locker? I’m supposed to go straight to the field for practice. I mentally slap myself for being stupid. I was so distracted by this annoying brat beside me that I didn’t even realize what I’m doing._

_“Cute? That, she is.”_

_I shut the locker close with a loud thud, causing Minho to wince but he tries to cover it up with his undying grin. “Just don’t mess with her, man.”_

_This time, he’s the one rolling his eyes. “Of course! In fact, I’m planning to ask her out next month.”_

_“How about. . .” I roll the sleeves of my sweater and check my watch. “. . . now?”_

_His eyes widen. “Do you think so?”_

_“No. I was just kidding.”_

_He dramatically groans again, leaning into the lockers._

_“Be friends with her first. Try to get to know her and stuff.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about this.”_

_This time, he’s the one rolling his eyes at me. “Are you serious? The hottest girl in the campus—well, second hottest to Clarisse, now—is your girl!”_

_I scratch my head and scoff. “She’s not my girl, Minho.”_

_Just when Minho opens his mouth to say something back, the bell—indicating the first subject will start in five minutes—rings._

_“I’ll probably be in the field the whole day with Team Alpha. Meet me there after your little rendezvous with Clarisse.”_

_“We’re still going to get waffles downtown after school, right?”_

_“Yes! I miss hanging out with Frypan, anyway.” Frypan is the owner’s son of the waffle house downtown. He’s the same age as the two of us but he doesn’t go to school here. We basically met at the waffle house when Minho and I were still obsessed with cards. Turned out he loved playing them, as well, so the three of us just sort of clicked. Also, his dad makes the best waffles in the whole planet!_

_“Cool. Oh, Clarisse is coming this way. See you!” He didn’t even finish his sentence before jogging towards Clarisse. Great, I think. My best friend is whipped. (But seriously, I’m happy for him.)_

_Most of the students are already in their perspective classrooms now and only a few are still in the hallways getting something out from their lockers. I walk past them, ignoring the looks and attention I always receive. It feels a bit weird especially when I was still new, but I’ve been studying here for four years now so I’m already used to it. Turning around another corner, I pass by a vast hallway that leads me to the locker room._

_I push the doors open and to my surprise, there is no one in here except me. Then, I hear familiar voices followed by laughter and a loud thud of the ball. I run towards the window and realize that my team is already practicing. Gally, the team’s goalkeeper, has the ball in his hand and quickly recovers from laughing when he noticed me. He waves a hand at me and whistles for the others to shut up and nods at my direction. Their eyes widen as soon as they saw me and stand straight. Gally beckons Ben to help the new kid who happens to have his butt on the floor. His dark and short curly hair is very messy and his jersey is as dirty as the ground he is sitting on. That’s when it finally clicks to my head. My team is making fun of our new member._

_“Alpha, can someone explain what’s going on?” I demand, and I swear all of them look like kids who accidentally broke their mother’s favourite vase. I wait for a few seconds, but no one dares to speak. “Gally?”_

_He looks pale now. “Captain. . .” he starts, taking quick glances at the team. “Well, we—” He nervously laughs. “We were just—‘ya know, giving our proxy a welcome initiation.”_

_I slide the glass windows a bit more and cross my arms over my chest. “Really. Didn’t know it was a thing.”_

_He scrunches his nose. “Look, man—it’s not even a big deal—”_

_“I should’ve started a welcome initiation when you were all still trying out to be part of the team. Sounds fun, eh?” I raise a brow, taunting them. “Gally, meet in five minutes please. If that is okay, of course?”_

_With that, I close the window and approach my locker._

_Honestly, I am not a bad captain of my team. I’m just trying to teach them how to be disciplined, and not just fool around like kids. I want them to take the game seriously. And Gally—well, let’s just say he’s the leader of those handful kids. He happens to have a fascination of making fun of newcomers._

_I take my shirt off and hang it inside the locker. Then there’s a soft thud, but it doesn’t come outside._

_“Is someone there?”_

_No answer._

_Maybe I am just hallucinating and hearing things due to lack of sleep these past few days. I have been so busy reviewing for the finals while at the same time practicing with the team that I almost couldn’t take a proper rest anymore. Mom’s right. I should’ve taken this day off to rest. But then again, the game’s going to happen in two weeks, and we still have to train the substitute of Harson, so taking a day off is probably not the best idea._   
_Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out and—speaking of the world’s best mother—open the text message from my mother._

_You left your meds. Does your head still hurt?_

_I quickly type a reply._

_A bit. But don’t worry, I’ll just come to the office and get it from you._

_It doesn’t take long for her to reply._

_Okay, sweetie. Your father and I are on the way now. Drink lots of water!_

_My smile fades. Good for him to show up after a damn hiatus._

_Shaking my head, I turn my attention back to my locker and search for my jersey. But to my surprise, my jersey isn’t here. I take a step back and begin looking around the room, only to realize that it’s under the bench at the farthest side of the room._

_How did it get there? I’m sure it wasn’t there a while ago. I open the window again to check what’s going on with the team. They’re all sitting on the floor, forming a huge circle as if having a meeting. They look like they’re in a deep discussion about something although Gally is nowhere in sight. I let out a sigh. They’re my team. They give a huge respect to me as their captain and I’m so sure no one would dare to make fun of me, because they know the consequences. But, who did this? Who would dare prank the captain of their school’s greatest football team?_

_A sudden image sparks inside my head and I almost laugh. Of course, it’s Minho, for sure._

_I’m going to strangle him later, I say to myself._

_I immediately walk towards the bench to retrieve my jersey. I crouch down and as soon as I have the jersey in hand, I hear the doors softly open. I sigh. Five minutes is over and I didn’t even realize it._

_“Gally, I thought we were over this.” I ask, standing up and putting the jersey on._

_He doesn’t say anything._

_“As much as I hate giving you, guys, punishments, you know I have to. Rules are rules. Every wrong action has a consequence that follows.”_

_He remains silent. I can only hear him take a deep breath as I pull the jersey over my head. Gods, when will this guy grow up? Shaking my head, I decide to turn around._

_But before I can do so, he hits me with something hard on my head. Something metal that it even releases a loud clink, making me fall hard to the ground. My head is throbbing in so much pain and my sight is really fuzzy right now that I can’t even see clearly. I touch the back of my head, only to feel something warm, wet and sticky. Blood? I think. Holy shit. Then, I hear him mutter something under his breath while pacing the room._

_Damn, it really hurts!_

_I can only feel like something is hitting me repeatedly at the back of my head that little by little, it becomes numb from the pain. It’s like my whole brain is on fire. Black dots start to appear in my eyes. As much as I want to stand on my feet or simply turn my head to look at Gally, I just can’t. It’s like my whole body is in shock—paralyzed, even. And my head—God, my head hurts so bad. Why would Gally do this to me?_

_Just when I start wondering why, a figure looks down at me and smiles. He runs a hand across my cheeks and places a kiss on my forehead, much to my surprise. What the hell? He then starts to drag me out of the room to God knows where. As much as I want to scream for help, I just can’t. It’s like I lost the energy to create even the tiniest sound, and I feel like my eyes are starting to drop. I just—I feel so sleepy, and exhausted._

_Despite the pain, something clicks inside my head. The person who hit me isn’t Gally. Gally’s hands are rough and big, unlike this person’s hands which happen to be smooth like a porcelain. Secondly, Gally wouldn’t kiss me. I mean, he has a girlfriend, the school’s new prom queen, and he isn’t gay. Thirdly, he is big and tough and can drag me like a piece of paper. But this person? He is having a hard time dragging me out of the room. Lastly, Gally is a good friend and a teammate. He would never do such thing even if I’m one hell of a strict captain, and even if he’s twice my size._

_That’s when it hits me. This person isn’t a guy nor one of my team._

_“You’re— a—” I take breath despite how tight my chest already is. “—a—girl . . .” I croak; my throat is dry. My sight is now mostly covered with dark spots. I can barely see anything now. Is this how painful dying is?_

_I hear her laugh as she continues to drag me. There’s a lot of questions that are in my head, but I’m afraid I’ll never get to hear the answers of those. I want to fight back or scream for help, but there’s nothing else I can do. My body has failed me, and my eyes are starting to drop._

_Stay awake! my subconscious yells. But I can’t, even if I try so hard._

_Then darkness finally takes over me._

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**present time**

 

 

" _Lizzy_ ," I call out her name, fist bumping hard on the door. "Open the  _damn_  door now, or I swear to Go—"

"Just a minute,  _Newtie_!"

"Will you stop calling me that?!"

I hear her laugh at the other side, which annoys me even more. Just before I can shot back, the door swings open—revealing a spoiled blond brat in her uniform, who doesn't know how to keep the noise level down and manage her time well.

"What are you even doing in the bathroom? I only got less than thirty minutes to prepare,  _great_  thanks to you, idiot!"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "I was doing my makeup!"

I roll my eyes at her and pushes her aside. "Have you ever wondered why there's a huge mirror in your room?"

"But I  _love_  doing my makeup inside the bathroom!"

" _God,_  this is why I hate having only one bathroom in the house!"

I slam the door on her face, rolling my eyes for what seems like the nth time this morning. Thankfully for ten minutes, I have managed to clean my body and my teeth before quickly going back to my room to change on some fresh clothes. When I enter the kitchen, I see Lizzy drinking her orange juice as she waits for the pancakes.

"Good morning, Newt. How's your sleep last ni—" Mum starts, sliding a plate of pancakes to Lizzy.

I cut her off, waving my hand to dismiss the topic. "I am  _fine."_

Lizzy playfully whistles beside me. "Someone's grumpy this early."

"Shut your hole."

" _Rude_."

I give her a look.

 _"Alright,_  that's enough, you two," Mum butts in, sliding a plate towards me. "Here, Newt. Eat your breakfast."

I mutter a small thanks to her, in which she returns with a smile. I love my mother, you know, but sometimes I just wish she stops treating me like a child.

A soft cling comes from Lizzy's phone—probably indicating of a new notification from her Facebook account, or maybe she has just changed her message tone for the sixth time this week—causing her to mutter an Oh my gosh.

"What is it?" I ask, taking a sip from my orange juice. Mum has taken a seat next to Lizzy and is currently eating pancakes, as well. For the record, her pancakes are the best, and I'm not even being biased or anything.  _Honestly._

She groans dramatically, putting the phone back inside her pocket. "Prom's cancelled."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," Mum says.

I stand up from my seat, feeling all the negative energy leave my body.  _God._  I feel like I can do just  _anything_  today.

"That's truly the  _best_  thing you've ever said today, Liz!" I fight hard not to grin like an idiot. Both of them look at me, surprisingly.

This time, though, Lizzy's the one rolling her eyes at me. "Yeah, whatever." She gives me a weird look and I swear there's a hint of something fishy behind those evil eyes. I just can't figure out what.

I finish my breakfast just before the school bus arrives outside. Mum pecks both mine and Lizzy's cheeks good bye as we head inside the vehicle.

I sit on my usual place inside the bus—the far end—while Lizzy sits beside her best friend, Nora. At least,  _one_  of her best friends. The rest will be picked up later by this stupid bus.  _Ugh._  I really can't wait to finish eleventh grade. Mum's attorney clearly said I could have one of Dad's cars when I step Year 12. A few more months left and I can finally get rid of this bus and have a taste of sweet freedom.

 _"Excuse_  me."

I extract my eyes from outside the window and turn around to look at this dark haired lady, who is most likely in Year 11, too.

"Is this seat taken?" she asks, pointing at the vacant seat beside me.

I frown. This seat has always been vacant. I mean, no one wanted to sit beside me because they know I don't like it.

"I mean—" She shifts uncomfortably and cracks a small, nervous smile. "I—I kind of don't want to sit with those—" She nods towards the direction of some fucked up and noisy jerks, still in the same level with me, in the middle row. "I'm sorry for bothering, you know—"

I nod sideways at her, placing my bag on my lap. I turn to look outside again.

"Thanks," she mutters, and I feel her take a seat. Not so long after that, she speaks again, "I'm Brenda, by the way. It's my first—"

I put my earphones even when I didn't plug it in my phone. It's an old habit—well, sort of a trick actually so people would think I'm listening to music even if I just don't want to talk to them.

"Oh. That's cool," she says in a low voice, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Surprisingly, she just keeps on talking, "It's my first day in St. Charles so I definitely don't have any friends yet."

_Okay. I have studied in St. Charles since Year 9 and I barely have any one to talk to at all._

She pokes my arm to get my attention.

"What's your name, by the way?"

  
She looks like a nice girl, alright, but I'm just not the type who's smooth for conversations and stuff, especially after everything that has happened to me.

"You don't  _need_  to know," I say, putting my earphones back.

"Okay. I'm sorry if I said anything wro—"

I turn to look at her again. "It's  _fine._ " She's looking at me with a worried look on her face. "You'll gain lots of friends the second you step out of this bus as we arrive, so do not worry about it."

I might have sounded a bit rude, but surprisingly, she just smiles at me as if she just received a compliment.

"Thank you, and I really hope so."

_Geez._

After thirty agonizing minutes inside the bus (I'm glad she stayed quiet after our conversation—if it  _really_  was considered as one), we have finally arrived in St. Charles. Everyone starts to leave the bus, and as usual, I remain in my seat until all of them gets out. Unfortunately, the girl beside me seems to have taken the hint that I do not want to leave the bus just yet, and probably misunderstood the whole situation because she also remains in her seat.

"Shall we go out now?" she asks as she stands up. I swear, those googly eyes of hers are going to be the death of me.

I ignore her question and walk past her, itching to leave the bus as fast as I can. And I guess the odds aren't really in my favour because she quickly catches up to me, trailing behind me like a lost puppy. I continue to walk, this time faster, because I definitely do not have the time to have a chat session with this new student.

She honestly needs to  _stay_  away from me. I don't like giving these people here the idea that she's  _with_  me, or that we're friends.

When I enter the main building, I head straight to my locker to get the stuff I need for today's classes. Even here, Brenda still follows me. She says something from behind but the noise here in the hallways makes it hard for me to catch it. Not that I care.

" _Uhm_ ," she starts, her voice is louder now. "Can you help me get to my classes? I mean—"

" _Hey_ ," someone cuts her off. I didn't bother checking who it is and just continue putting my books in my bag.

"Oh, hi," Brenda greets back.

"Are you new here? I'm  _Teresa,_  by the way—"  _Oh, little miss perfect came_. "—and I could be of great help."

"That’s fine, I alrea—”

Before she can even finish, I close my locker and start to walk away from them. I realize some students are starting to look in my direction.  _Damn it._

 _"_ You, uh, probably stay away from him.”

Teresa mustn’t have realized that I could still hear her. Without even thinking straight, I stop in my tracks, and turn around to face her. "You know what—next time, try to keeping your voice level down just a bit.” I try to keep my voice firm.

Her eyes widen a bit—maybe surprised because for the first time in years of running into each other in the hallways and sitting next to each other in some classes, I have finally talked to her. I don’t even know what’s gotten into me today, but I just feel snapping at anyone who gets in my way.

She quickly composes herself and opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off. "But, sure—" I look at the new student. "—listen to her. I mean, she's right. You  _should_  stay away from me."

The hallways are silent, and at the corner of my eye, I notice a lot of students are starting to gather around us—which pisses off me even more. Before Teresa can say anything back, I start walking away from them—which isn't even a problem because the students that have gathered parted, giving me a wide space as I walk away. They don't want my skin to brush against theirs. Fortunately, neither do I.

To be honest, what Teresa said hurt me, like a lot. I haven't interacted with anyone at school for years now. I thought maybe they just figured it all out—that I don't want to be a part of some group, or the whole student body itself. But I never thought that that is going around—someone telling another person to stay away from me, until the whole school gets the word. What's worse is, I never thought that I'd actually feel hurt because of it, and I feel so stupid.

I let out a sigh and bury my face in the book, waiting for our General Biology professor to come and kill the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, everyone! so sorry for the inconvenience but this chapter is edited. it's my first time using this platform so i'm still having difficulties with how everything works. my plan all along was to put 'prologue' before the first chapter but the moment i published the first chapter yesterday, i realized the prologue was gone lol
> 
> so um the prologue of the story is the italicized text and the first chapter begins at the present time. thank you so much for the feedback btw, i appreciate all of them :< i love you all!
> 
> (chapter two coming right up)


	2. gone viral

Do you know what's worse than being the center of attention at school because everyone thought I tried to win an argument against the student council president? Being the center of attention  _even_  in social media.

Apparently, there were pictures and short video clips taken, and a lot really had the audacity to post it on their social media accounts. Although, only Teresa and the new student's faces can be seen since I had my back on the crowd, I still feel very ashamed and mad.  _Yes,_  that's it. I'm  _mad._  Good thing, too, that I spoke in very low voice so no one could recognize me. Unless, of course, you were there.

Groaning, I jump out of my bed and take my hoodie out from my closet. I need a fresh air, or else I'd suffocate the hell out of here (and die before claiming my car). I hurriedly run downstairs, but stop in my tracks as soon as I saw my mother in the living room in her night gown.  _Bollocks._

"Going somewhere? It's almost ten."

I slowly take the remaining steps.

"I just—" I take a breath in. "I  _need_  to go out. For a bit."

She stares at me for a few seconds before nodding. "Just come back.  _Safely."_

She didn't wait for my reply, and just starts pacing around the living room as if something's bothering her.

I look at the door, then back at her.

She doesn't look good. I mean, neither do I. The only person in this house that seems to be radiating a positive vibe is my sister, Elizabeth. I can't blame her. She wasn't there when it happened. She was still too young to remember every detail, which is great. She doesn't need to carry the burden that's on our shoulders.

"You're still here?"

I snap out of my thoughts.

"Are you okay?"

I tried to force a smile but it's hard when you don't even mean it.

"I'm going now." I grab the doorknob. " _Just_ —go to sleep. Don't wait for me. I have a spare key."

Actually, I don't.

Even on January, the air is still very cold. I put my arms on the front pockets of my hoodie and start walking on a slow pace. I honestly don't know where to go, and I don't even have money to go and buy myself a burger—not that I'm hungry anyway. I just feel like distracting myself. Make my mind at peace. But even if I try hard, this brain of mine is still full of those painful memories that keep on resurfacing no matter how much I try to build a wall to keep them from coming back.

In this situation, a part of me wishes I had a friend to talk to. That new student named Brenda could've been my friend if I didn't act like a dick. She's new here, so basically, she doesn't know anything about me at all. Maybe by now she's here with me to listen to all my problems and give me an advice or something—

_Woah there._

I shake my head to brush off the thought.  _Gods,_  I can't believe I just thought of that. Am I really that desperate to have a friend?

"Get a grip, Newt." I mutter to myself. "You've come this far without having a friend. It's the least of your problem."

" _Aarrff_!"

I made a mistake of taking a step back without thinking. I totally forgot that I'm walking at the very edge of the sidewalk—an old habit of mine since I was a kid—so I lost my balance and landed on the cold ground. Pain immediately creeps into my back and I groan in pain.

As if I'm knocked back to my senses, I realized that there's a puppy in front of me, wagging its tail.

 _"Bloody_  hell." I stand on my feet again, brushing the dirt off my jeans, and look around.  _Phew._  Good thing no one else is here to witness. I've already done enough embarrassments for today.

" _Aarrff_!"

I frown at the dog. Its fur has the colour of my hair, but in a darker shade. I'm not a fan of dogs so I totally do not know what breed it is. Maybe I should ask my mother about it.

" _Yes,_  I heard you the first time you freakin' barked at me," I say, scratching my head. " _Gods_ , now I'm talking to a dog."

It barks louder this time, making me wince.

"Hey, calm down," I crouch, and it immediately jogs closer to me, bumping his head on my hands as if it wants me to pat him. I do so, of course, and it just wiggles closer to me.  _"Hey,_  boy, you hungry?"

" _Aarrff_!"

I take that as a  _yes,_  then.

Since I don't have any cash with me, I decide to take the poor thing home with me. He's cold and hungry, and I'm not that selfish to let this dog suffer tonight.

On the way back, I feel the hair at the back of my neck suddenly stand up, and a shiver runs down my spine. Have you ever felt like someone is following you? Well, that's exactly what I'm feeling right now. Although, every time I pause to look, no one is around. No footsteps, too, which should've made me feel relaxed, but I still have that weird feeling that I can't quite point a finger to it.  _Stupid January breeze_. I tighten the cord of the hoodie around my neck. When I take a last quick look behind me, I notice that the dog is still following me—which I'm very glad for because I'm not in the mood to carry him. I bet he's really hungry that he chose to follow me home.

When I arrive in the driveway, I notice that the light in the living room is still on. I wonder why my mother is still awake in this hour.

Good thing, the front door isn't locked so I just quietly enter the house, with the dog behind me.

 _"Newt, is that you?_ " My mother's voice echoes in the hallway.

"Yes, I— _uhh,_  brought a dog with me." I reply, walking towards the kitchen. I see no point in lying, anyway.

She appears in front of me— _too_  fast, even. She wears the same worried look, but when she sees the dog trailing behind me, the lines on her forehead seem to fade away and a huge smile spreads across her face. She starts walking towards me with open arms—and I  _swear_  to God how nervous I am that I instantly take a step back. However, she immediately crouches down and scoops the dog in her arms.

I mentally smack myself. Of course, Mum knows I'm not a big fan of physical contact. She wouldn't give me a hug out of the blue.

"Where did you find him?" she asks, but the moment I open my mouth to answer, she shoots another question. Her eyes are still glued on the dog. "Aw, I'm sure he's hungry. I'll take him to the kitchen, and you—" She raises a brow at me. "You should go to sleep now."

"But the dog—"

"—is very well taken care of by your mother. Now,  _shoo!_ "

I blink. "Oh, uh—okay.”I start heading upstairs, but quickly stop midway. I take a deep breath and slowly turn around. "Uhh—good night—Mum."

She looks up, her eyes widen a bit, but she quickly recovers and gives me a warm smile. "Good night, Newt," she says.

Nodding my head, I quickly rush inside my room before it gets too emotional for her.

I haven't had a decent conversation with my mother, or Lizzy, for years. I stopped spending my leisure time with them. Saturday night was supposed to be our family time, until we lost Dad four years ago. My mother insisted on continuing our plans even if it was only just us three, but I decided against it. Lizzy—being the optimist in the family—told me that I sucked as a brother, so now it's only the two of them who still do that thing.

I fish my phone out of my pocket to check the time, but I have only grasped the device for a few seconds when an excruciating pain suddenly shot through my leg—letting the phone fall out of my hand. This stupid _limping_ leg that does nothing but make me suffer.

Wincing, a cry escapes my lips as I stumble and drop to the ground. “ _Fuck._ ” I place a hand against the wall to steady myself. _God,_ I hope my mother didn’t hear the commotion.

Taking a very deep breath, I try to pull myself up and, fortunately, manage to take a few more strides to reach my bed.

The physical pain, _that_ I can handle—but the pain that the memories bring as they quickly resurface every time it happens. . . it’s breaking me—but I do not have the right to complain. Every single bullshit that’s happening in our lives, from the moment my father died—all of these are my fault.

Slowly, I drape the covers up to my neck, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it tightly. I shut my eyes, forcefully dismissing the pain in my leg that’s becoming more and more intense.

_It should've been me._

_It should've been me._

_It should've been me._

I mutter it like a prayer—my body still slightly shaking—before I found myself in a void.                 


	3. trespasser

My dreams are always the same. Every night.

The limp on my leg isn’t the only thing that’s reminding me of how I ended up tearing my family apart. Sure, it was a physical reminder, with a matching scar for about five centimeters long. Though from time to time, most especially when the weather’s a bit cold, my leg gets really numb from the pain—it’s nothing compared to how my brain works.

For the past four years, I dream of the same thing. The _accident._ It’s as if witnessing it for the first time. Although in those dreams, I try to make a difference, every night—but it always, _always_ ends up the same. My father still dies.

The first few weeks after the accident, I found myself waking up in the dark, chest heaving in pain as the hot tears continued to stream down my face. I couldn’t force myself to sleep again, so I decided to lock myself up in my closet, like what I used to do when I was afraid, probably still hoping that my father would one day show up and find me there.

But he didn’t.

 My mother never knew about it—or maybe she _did,_ but chose to ignore it because she knew damn well how I would react to it. She’s having her own type of hell. Sometimes I think hers is far worse than mine. She lost the love of her life from the hands of her _own_ child. How ironic.

Still, no matter how painful my dreams are, there’s a massive part of me that doesn’t want them to go away. I _want_ myself to suffer from it, because I believe it’s the only punishment that fate has for me. It’s my fault, anyway. I deserve all of it. If only I could take away the agony that my mother is suffering from. . .

However, this time, I find myself having a _different_ dream. Still in my bed, the temperature seems to drop pretty low, making me wrap the covers tighter around my body. I hear a voice before I can fully comprehend what’s happening. There, across my room on the floor, sits a man whose back is on me, talking to what seems like my newly-adopted dog.

". . . seriously,  _Nico._ Don't leave me alone like that ever again," the guy says, his voice somewhat familiar as if I heard it somewhere before. The dog barks, making him chuckle. "I know you were hungry last night, but I told you to wait for me."

_Gods, this feels really odd._

I slowly get up on my bed, rubbing my eyes as they adjust from the brightness. My face feels sticky from the dried tears and my body is sore, too. I didn’t know it’s possible for me to have two dreams in one night.

"I miss having a room."

Furrowing my brows, I look at the strange guy who is shifting uncomfortably on the floor. He has a pale skin, not the glowing type of pale but the worse one—like the colour of a spoiled milk. He's wearing a shirt and doesn't even show a sign that he's cold.

_Okay, definitely a dream._

Then everything starts getting pretty messed up  _too_  fast. Because by the time I’m convinced that I’m only dreaming, my phone starts beeping—indicating that it's already  _6:30 a.m._

He whips his head around; his eyes locking with my own. His eyes look so tired—like he hasn't slept for a week—and  _lost._  The weird thing is, I feel like I've seen him before. I just don't remember when or where.

Then something clicks in my head.

_Shit._

This isn’t another dream. This is actually happening.

I quickly jump out of my bed, picking up the baseball bat that’s lying on the floor. I must’ve accidentally hit it last night when I stumbled and fell.

"Who the  _hell_ are you?" I ask, trying to keep myself from yelling at this trespasser. I mentally smack myself for even thinking this was all a dream. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

His mouth falls open, and my dog becomes  _strangely_ quiet. I take a quick glance at it and realize it's currently playing with my sock. It doesn't even care about what's happening in front of him.

I use my bat to taunt the stranger and he quickly takes a step back.

Taking a deep breath, I ask him once again, "Who the hell are you? Why—" I shake my head. " _How_ did you get in here?"

Then, as stupid as it sounds, he raises a hand at my face, and starts waving it around like an utter idiot. I have no other choice but to hit his hand with my bat. But the  _weirdest_ thing is—the bat just passes through his hand like—

I blink several times, and rub my eyes.

_I'm definitely going crazy._

_I'm definitely going crazy._

_I'm definitely go—_

"Can you—" he starts, and I look up to him. His eyes are searching for mine. "Can you really  _see_ me?"

_I'm definitely going crazy._

"What—" I let out a nervous laugh. "—kind of question is that? Are you trying to make me think that I'm going _crazy_?"

He runs a hand through his hair, and frowns. "No, no, no," he says. "Definitely not. But the fact that you're talking to me just answered my question."

"Just because my bat went through your hand, doesn't make you intimidating or something," I blurt out.  _That didn't come out right._ "Bet you practiced that trick for years now, huh? Do you do this to all those people whose houses you trespassed? Trying to make them look  _insane_ so the police won't buy it? Well, guess what  _mister_ trespasser, I ain't buying your  _shit._ "

Breathing heavily, I point the bat closer at his face, but he seems to be preoccupied. He’s muttering something under his breath—his voice so low that I can only make out a few words—as he runs a hand through his dark hair, furrowing his brows together.

“Hey!” When he doesn’t respond, I take a step closer to him and wave the bat across his face. “Hey, hey— _hey!_ —” I snap my fingers to get his attention. His mouth stops moving, quickly lifting his gaze to look at me. I can’t understand the emotions that his eyes hold at the moment.

For a moment, he remains quiet, making me wonder if he’s trying to come up with a proper excuse to why he was here in my room. “I don’t understand. . .” he trails off, extracting his gaze from me. His brows are knit together in confusion.

I scoff, rolling my eyes at his nonsense. He’s obviously caught in his own trap. Just when I was about to fire back, someone knocks on my door.  _Thank God._

" _Mum!_ Is that you?" I yell, glaring at the trespasser. He just shrugs like he doesn't care if he gets caught.

" _Yes, sweetie_." A pause. " _Is something wrong?"_

The trespasser’s eyes widen in surprise. “No, no—don’t tell her that you can see me.”

“Oh, are you scared now?” I ask, raising my brows in sarcasm.

To my surprise, he only shakes his head worryingly—at least that’s what it seems like. " _Just_  let me explain," he pleads, glancing at the door before looking at me. This man is giving me the creeps. What’s his matter?

"So now  _you_  want to explain why you're trespassing my house?"

" _Are you talking to someone on the phone?"_  Mum asks on the other side.

He takes another step closer to me, and I instinctively take a step back, hitting the back of my legs against the hard wood of my bed.

“Don’t come any closer, you _prick_!”

 “ _Please._ Just listen to me. Don’t—” Several steps backward. “—she would think you’re crazy. Believe me. Don’t tell—”

Then the door swings open, revealing my mother with a frantic look. I gestured for her not to step inside.

"Newt," she starts; her eyes scanning my room before she looks at me. "What's wrong?"

I point a finger at the trespasser—who slowly turns around to look at my mother.

She quickly follows my gaze. Her eyes lands on the guy but looks past him until her eyes are fixed on the artwork that I posted on the wall across from where I am standing.

Frowning, she asks me, "That's—that's a very nice artwork, Newt. Didn't you make that when you were in fifth grade?"

Why is she changing the topic?

"No, Mum—I mean,  _yes,_ I made that when I was in fifth grade—" I say, frowning. "But that's not what I meant—"

I trail off when I notice my mother's expression.

That's when it hits me hard in the head.

"Newt, what's happening?" she asks, slowly approaching me. She stops in her tracks, putting a good distance between us—like what she always does. "Are you alright? You—honey, you look pale.”

And at the corner of my eye, I notice how the strange guy’s shoulders slump in defeat. He’s _right_. Once I told my mother about him, she'd think I've gone insane.

She  _can't_  see him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while and i honestly apologize for the loooong delay. things have been pretty hard at school and i got some shit to deal with at home too so i definitely didn't have the time to write. rest assured that i will finish this story - one way or another. happy new year to everyone!


	4. going mental

She _can’t_ see him.

My heart pounds so hard against my chest at the realization. Too many questions are flooding inside my head. _Too_ many. Why can’t my mother see him but I can? What the _hell_ is happening? What _is_ he?

 “ _Newt._ ”

I snap out of my thoughts, lifting my gaze to my mother. Confusion is stretched across the lines on her forehead. Now that I’ve thought about it—if I _try_ to insist that someone just broke into our home, nobody would believe me, not even my own mother. Worse, she’d think I’ve lost my mind. _Shit._ I can’t let that happen.

I’ll deal with this strange creature later. If granted, I could ask him why this is all happening to me. The first thing that I have to do is to kick my mother out of the room so I can talk to _him._ Yes, that’s it.

I take a gulp, exhaling a heavy breath that I didn’t know I was holding the entire time, and point a finger on the dog. “It— _it’s_ chewing on my—my _sock_ ,” I manage to come up with an excuse; her eyes following to the direction that my finger is pointing at.

“ _Oh,_ ” she says, her eyes widen in realization. My black socks are beyond repair now—great thanks to the dog. “So, you’re actually pointing at him?”

I blink. “What?”

She frowns. “You were pointing at _him_? Not at your artwork?”

 _No._ “Y— _yes_ —yeah, you’re right. I was pointing at h—” I cut myself, tilting my head a bit in confusion. “Did you just say ‘him’ as in— _that_ dog?”

“Of course.” She squints her eyes at me. “He’s a male. Wait, you’re not calling the dog ‘it’, are you?”

Before I can even reply, my sister appears on the doorway, already wearing her school uniform.

"Is that—" she starts, holding back her squeals, her eyes glimmering at the sight of the dog. "— _your_  dog, Newt?"

"Well, uh—I guess so." I say, shifting uncomfortably. She's  _staring_ at my dog now. "Go on. Take him before—before _he_ chews another pair of my socks."

She doesn't let me finish before scooping up my dog in her arms—and all along I thought my mother was the only pet-lover in this house. My mother then walks towards them and starts explaining to her about how I ended up taking the dog with me.

"That's  _so_ kind of you, Newt! Can I let him sleep in my room every night?" she asks, batting her lashes at me. "Please,  _please, please_!"

"Yeah, whatever." I roll my eyes at her, and she squeals even louder. "Just don't spoil that dog."

With that, she leaves the room—still carrying my dog—to  _God_ knows where. I just hope she won't feed him with too much sweets or crush his bones from the hugs she gives. How clueless was I to call the dog ‘it’ the entire time?

"Newt." I turn my attention to my mother, and feel the heat rising into my cheeks. _Shit._ I totally forgot that there’s another person in the room. I _fucking_ forgot about the situation I’m in. _Stupid, stupid—_ "You  _can_  miss your morning classes," she says, and my eyes almost bulged out from my sockets in surprise.  _She's letting me miss my classes?_ "It's almost seven, anyways, and the bus will arrive in five minutes."

The energy in my legs drain out, making me fall on the edge of my bed at the very moment she leaves my room. Feeling overwhelmed, I release a shaky breath, placing a palm on top of my chest. My heart is still beating so fast that I'm afraid it'll burst out from my chest.

As if the situation overwhelms him as well, the strange guy drops to the floor, his eyes staring at nowhere in particular. Looking at him, my mind is flooded with questions that I want to throw at him.

“What—” My voice cracks. I pause, clearing my throat before speaking again, “What’s happening? What the _hell_ is happening?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, shaking his head. “I—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean by _that_?” I hiss, wincing as a pain flares at the back of my head. “How is—is that even possible? Why am I the only one who can see you? Why can’t my mother—”

“I don’t—”

“—I mean there’s nothing special about me. It’s my first time seeing something that others can’t—”

“ _Newt._ Stop.”

I bury my head in my hands, trying to calm myself down. My whole body is trembling, though I’m not sure if it’s because of the coldness of my room or if I’m having one of my episodes again. _Heck,_ I’m not even sure if I’m still capable of knowing what’s real and what’s not _._ Everything is happening so fast and my brain can’t even catch up anymore.

“My name’s Thomas,” he says after a few minutes. I can’t bear to look at him, so instead, I let my gaze fall on the floor. When I don’t respond, he continues, “I am as shocked as you are. I—I haven’t encountered anyone who can see past the _veil_.”

My head snaps at his direction. “What in _hell_ are you talking about?” I shake my head, grabbing a fistful of hair. _I’m gonna lose it._

He bites his lower lip in concentration, brows furrowed together, probably thinking of a better way to explain whatever’s happening right now. “It’s like… a _veil_ is like—” he stutters, eyes wandering around my room as if he’s searching for something. Then, he walks towards a door and points at a pair of sunglasses hanging just beside the frame (I don’t even remember putting it there).

“A veil is exactly like those specs,” he starts, looking deep into my eyes. Surprisingly, I didn’t flinch away and just stare right back. “It’s like—when you wear it, you get to see changes in your environment, like—for instance—if its tinted. Those who aren’t wearing it won’t be able to see what you’re seeing.”

I might have the dumbest look ever because as soon as he’s finished _trying_ to explain, his face falls.

But I actually _understand_ what he just said. It’s like one of those books I’ve read in middle grade. Rick Riordan mentions the term _mist_ in his book series about gods and goddesses. That’s most likely what Thomas is trying to make me understand.

A _veil_ is like the _mist_. It’s something that keeps the mortals—the folks with no godly parent or blood—from seeing the real world with _monsters_ and all those shits. It keeps them from going insane. So, if I can see past the mist—the _veil_ , like what Thomas said—does this mean I’m some kind of a demigod now?

_Nope. You’re some kind of a mental freak now._

“Leave.” I surprise myself from having the courage to speak it out loud. “ _Please,_ leave me alone.” _Leave before I start to lose all my shit._

He shakes his head and takes a few steps forward. “You don’t understand—”

I snap my head at him. “Yes. I totally don’t understand, and I feel like—like my head’s gonna explode,” I say, raising my voice. “Maybe—maybe that _veil_ exists for a reason.”

“ _Exactly._ ” His eyes widen. “I need your help so I can get to the afterlife.”

“ _What_?” I shake my head. My legs are starting to tremble. “Help you? Are you _insane_?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Well, maybe _I_ am, too.” I’m actually yelling now. I sincerely hope they can’t hear me downstairs. “This is all too much for me. I—I can’t help you—” _I can’t even help myself._ “—I—I just _can’t,_ so please, I beg of you to leave me alone.”

Tears are starting to form at the sides of my eyes, but I manage to look away before he can even notice.

“Go find someone else,” I whisper. “If I can see you—”

I stop midsentence, when I feel a change in the temperature. The coldness is now gone, and when I look up, so is Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii i'm not confident about this chapter bc i was writing it with my eyes half-closed already lol but i wanted to post an update to make up for the months i was inactive. sooo like, this may contain lots of typos and wrong grammar so pls i apologize in advance. love you all.


	5. regrets

I end up taking the whole day off.

After everything that happened this morning, I don't think I can face anyone at school just yet. My mother didn't even complain when I told her after I got out of the shower and went downstairs to eat breakfast. In fact, she's lowkey delighted to know I won't be going to school today.

So, that is why I  _ended_ up staying in the kitchen with her. She figured we could use the time well to bond. I couldn't refuse her request. She always looks at me with those eyes—those eyes that are full of hope and longing. I wanted to tell her that it would be  _so_ impossible for things to go back to the way they were—especially me, but I didn't want to make her feel bad. And it doesn't hurt to, at least, try and mend things with my family. They don't deserve the treatment that I have given to them for the past years. No one does. I deserve to get  _punished_ for what happened to Dad, and not Mum nor Elizabeth.

" _Newt._ "

I snap out of my thoughts and look up to my Mum across the table. Her face is smudged with flour and, as well as, her apron. I remember how Dad used to laugh at her face for being so messy in the kitchen as she bakes. Thinking about it causes a sting in my heart.

"Did you say something?"

She gives me a smile. "I asked if you could run to the grocery for a bit and buy me some of these ingredients for the cupcake," she says. "It's been a while since I baked that I totally forgot to buy more. Here's the list."

She hands it over to me and some cash.

"Uh, sure." I take them and get off the stool.

"Oh, and here." She throws me the key and I barely catch it mid-air.

I frown. "Are these—"

"You can drive my car."

_No._

I place it on the table, ignoring the questioning look she has on her face.

"I'll just take the bus."

"Are you sure?"

I nod. "Yep, no biggie."

She furrows her brows, probably wondering why I refused to drive her car. She knows how much I love to drive and have a car of my own, but for years, she never entrusted me with any moving vehicle—and I clearly understood why. The fact that she trusts me enough to drive her car most likely means she thinks that I had already forgiven myself for what happened to my father.

And as much as I want that to happen, I can't afford myself to do it.

I am a  _murderer,_ and nothing else will ever change that.

Tapping my foot on the cold pavement, I hug my coat tighter around my body. Although it usually takes at least ten minutes to arrive here by foot, it only took me less than five minutes because I  _ran_  like a lunatic. Probably that's the only thing I'm good at— _running_ away.

The bus arrives in no time, and I immediately step inside. I let out a sigh when the warmth of the heater engulfs my body. My eyes quickly scan the bus, and I take a seat at the farthest back since it's not quite full of passengers yet. As soon as I'm settled, I put my earphones on—drifting my eyes outside the window. In hopes of getting distracted, my mind flies elsewhere-right where I do not want it be.

The trespasser— _Thomas_ —left his dog. I was surprised when I came downstairs to see my mother cradling Nico on her lap. He could've forgotten to take his dog with him when I told him to stay out of my life,  _or_  maybe he intentionally left him here because he knows how much my mother and sister love the dog. Probably, too, since he can't take good care of Nico anymore now that he's a spirit, he decided to leave the dog to us. He gave Nico a chance to have a family again.

For some reason, there's an ounce of me that feels guilty. I could've helped him find his  _body_  or whatever unfinished  _business_  he still has to do so he could cross. I  _could've_ , but I  _didn't_  do it, because everything happens so  _damn_  fast. Yesterday, the only thing that has me worried was the new student. Because of  _her_ , I lost my nerve at Teresa which we both ended up going viral in the Internet. When I woke up this morning,  _ghosts_  have become real. No one can see Thomas except  _me_ , and that makes me curious yet scared.

So, I did what I thought was best. I  _declined_  Thomas's plea to help him cross. I mean, how can I help someone when I can't even help my own self? I know it was selfish of me but I just  _can't_ seem do it.

"I'm a  _coward_ ," I breath, shutting my eyes. "And I'm going insane."

-

My mother's grocery list isn't even long, but to my surprise, it's equivalent to at least  _three_ grocery bags. My expression must have priceless because the moment I walked up to the counter to pay for everything, the cashier was trying hard not to laugh. I ­ _should've_ accepted my mother's offer to let me drive her car because I'm having difficulties in carrying all these bags from the bus stop going home.

When I reach our neighbourhood, I notice a bicycle parked in our front lawn. For the love of God, my sister probably brought her friends again.

"Hi, Newt!"

_Oh my—_

"What are you doing here?"

Standing up, she sends me a warm smile. "Well, you were  _absent_ —" she says, brushing the dirt off her jeans. "—and we have a lot of things to catch up and finish before this week ends—"

"—wait,  _wait,_ " I cut her off, putting the grocery bags on the floor. I furrow my brows as I look at the  _new_ student. " _We_ have a lot of things to catch up?"

Brenda nods. "We were paired up by Mrs. Gomez for the upcoming  _Science Fest_."

 _Holy shit._ Science Fest is one of the few events of school that I anticipate the most, and it'll happen in two months now. I've been thinking of swallowing my anxiety to join this year. I've always wanted to do so since seventh grade but it's hard when you couldn't face a crowd or even a small group of people. In this event, a participant is required to present something that is new and solely yours to call, may it be small or big, and explain how it works and the impact it gives to everyone in an exhibit. However, it was merely a thought. Acceptance of participants has started last month, and I haven't listed my name on the list yet—even if I have already thought of what to present.

How did Mrs. Gomez know about my fascination of joining the event?

" _Hold_ up—" I raise a finger at her, when realization starts to sink in. "Mrs. Gomez  _paired_ us up?  _Why_?"

"I had my name listed last morning, and Mrs. Gomez suddenly came up to me and said that since I'm  _new_ , I have to pick someone to help me."

My eyes widen a bit. "So, you told her—"

"I—uh, actually thought about suggesting  _Teresa,_ but before I could say it, Mrs. Gomez said it'd be best if it was you," she says, in a small voice.

_Oh._

"Should I convince Mrs. Gomez to pair you up with Teresa, instead?" I surprise myself for asking the question. It could be a chance for me to join the Science Fest, even if I would only mentor Brenda. A part of me knows I'll never sign up to join because there's a lot of things that's holding me back. But, I couldn't let myself be a burden to someone else. Elizabeth clearly loves to join—probably as much as I do—but unlike me, she has the confidence and passion to do so.

This time, it's her turn to widen her eyes. "No,  _no._ " She takes a step closer, and I quickly take a step back. "I just  _thought ­_ you wouldn't like to pai— _join_  the event," she says, but I know she was going to say  _pair up with me_ rather than  _join the event._ "But I'd really  _love_ for you to be my partner, even if you  _hate_ me."

 _I just don't want others to talk about you just because you're with me,_ I want to say to her.

" _Alright_ ," I say instead, and she lightens up. "You can come—"

The words get stuck in my throat when I notice something in my peripheral vision. I quickly turn around just as a shadow disappears from behind the bushes. A cold shiver runs down my spine. It couldn't have been  _him,_ right? Can he disappear like a wisp of smoke? Maybe I was hallucinating again. It  _couldn't_ have been him.

" _Hey,_ " Brenda says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you alright?"

I try to reassure her with a smile but I can't. I am totally not okay. Taking a few heavy breaths, I compose myself and face her again.

"Yeah. I—you can come here every Saturday or Friday night so we can prepare. Is that okay?"

She beams at me—the biggest she has ever given to me since yesterday. " _Absolutely,_ " she replies, walking over to the bicycle. "I'll see you tomorrow, Newt. Thank you  _so_ much!"

With that, she scurries away—leaving me standing in front of my house. I look behind me again to check for the last time, before taking the grocery bags again and head inside the house.

The following morning, Brenda didn't even hesitate to sit beside me on the bus. I tried to ignore her but she kept a conversation despite the fact that she knew I was wearing my earphones. After a few moments, I decided to take them off—still keeping my eyes outside the window—enough for her to know that I was listening. The tone of her voice lightened up a bit as soon as I did.

No one seems to care about my sudden outrage with Teresa the other day. Everyone ignores me as usual, which makes me relieve. At least, I no longer have to worry about it anymore.

The whole morning drags time pretty slowly that I find myself yawning every five minutes. Fortunately, none of the teacher noticed and worse, pointed it out at class. When it's time for Contemporary Arts class, I silently thank Ms. Evergreen for letting us explore the campus for an hour. Our task is to find something inspiring within the walls of St. Charles to paint or draw with.

Almost everyone in the class has gone to the Central Park considering it's probably the only place in school full of nature and beauty. I, on the other hand, take this time an opportunity to wander around to clear my head. I considered going to the library to sleep but I figured the school librarian might notice me instantly since it wouldn't be full of students at this hour.

When the bell rings as an indication that it is finally time for lunch, I quickly head back inside the classroom and take all my things. I receive a text message from Brenda that she has a table ready for us already. She asked for my phone number this morning at the bus. I told her no but she was so persistent and some students inside the bus were sending me weird looks already. I eventually gave it to her. However, the moment we went in our separate ways, she's been sending me messages every hour that made me really regret giving her my number. She's as annoying as my sister.

The hallways are packed with people but since all of them seem to think I'm some kind of an infection, they part a little—giving me some space to pass through them. It's in times like this that I'm glad everyone thinks I'm weird. No one wants my skin to brush against theirs.

As I continue to walk towards the cafeteria, the hair on my skin starts to stand and suddenly, I feel a little cold. This is vaguely familiar. I pause, doing a quick look around the hallways. Everything seems fine, but something is definitely off. Shaking my head, I decide to continue walking. I'm probably just hungry.

Ignoring the looks of some students, I turn around a corner—making my pace a little faster. My heart starts to beat fast, and my sweaty palms have dried. The temperature has gone a little low, as well.

 _Keep walking,_ I tell to myself.  _You're just tired and hungry. Everything is fine._

But boy, I am  _wrong_. Everything is definitely  _not_ fine.

I halt into a stop, my breathing ragged, because ahead of me—a few feet away—and among the crowd is  _someone_  I didn't know would be here in public. My mind tells me to turn around and walk away, but my feet won't seem to cooperate.

_Thomas._

He doesn't seem to notice me yet because he's busy trying to catch someone's attention. His mouth moves but I can't hear what he's saying because of how loud the students are in the hallways. Then, he moves to another student and shamelessly waves a hand at his face. After a few moments, he looks for another person to hold with. As expected, none of them has noticed him. Nobody even shoved him out of the way because they all went through him.

Thomas is here in St. Charles, and what seems to break a part of my heart is that he doesn't even look like he's looking for me. He's here for another reason.

He's in  _desperate_ search for someone to see him.

Before I can tear my eyes away from him, his back suddenly freezes as if realizing someone is watching him—

_Holy shit._

I slowly take a step back, but before I can turn around, his hazel brown eyes have caught me. My heart is beating so fast I could almost feel it jumping out of my chest. We continue staring at each other's eyes for a moment, neither of us dare to speak. His eyes are darker this time. I thought they would be full of hatred as soon as they landed on me, but all I could see are grief and  _lost._ And it's enough for my heart to clench.

I open my mouth to say something, but a student accidentally bumps into my shoulder, that makes me tear my gaze away from Thomas'.

"I—I'm  _sorry_ ," a seventh-grader says, looking at me with wide eyes. I purse my lips and nod—enough for the boy to scurry away from me.

When I look up, Thomas is nowhere to be found.


End file.
